In Her Service
by VA-Parky
Summary: A dedicated servant wants nothing more than to be at Padme’s side during her funeral.


**Author**: VA-Parky

**Title**: In Her Service

**Genre**: Angst

**Summary**: A dedicated servant wants nothing more than to be at Padme's side during her funeral.

**Disclaimer**: I do not have any claim on _Star Wars_ – just borrowing, I promise!

**Author's Note**: Just a little viggie that popped into my head the other day. I hope you enjoy! I promise I am working on SWTSW – I'll be back with the next chapter soon! Real life has been crazy!

* * *

Even before I was assigned to my first duty, I knew my place. 

I was made for a life of servitude and obedience and although some may call me a coward for admitting this… it seemed perfectly acceptable to me. In fact, I believe my dedication to duty suited me quite well. After all, I was never cursed with the dramatic ambitions of some of my compatriots. No, I rather preferred to stay away from danger – it seemed to me a sensible thing to do.

However, I find myself considering some rather foolish actions right now. If I were to carry them out, it would most likely lead to my immediate destruction - for I am nothing if not replaceable. Normally, the mere _idea_ of such a consequence would have me retreating to my chamber in fear.

But not on this day.

For this is the day my Mistress is being laid to rest.

I have served the honorable Senator for more years than I currently care to tabulate. She has always treated me kindly, even though it wasn't necessary. No, I do not warrant enough clout to be measured by station – not even a lowly one. Yet she would not have it any other way.

In reality, we were opposites. She was royalty, revered and admired by more people than I will ever hope to know. She lived as a warrior of the noblest variety, determined to spread democracy and freedom to the farthest reaches of the Galaxy. Deadly accurate with a blaster, it was a trademark of hers that was difficult for her to reconcile…

…Because deep down, Padmé Amidala was a preserver of peace.

I have heard whispers about how terribly ironic it is that she died violently, in some sort of secretive battle. I am sorry to say that I am not clever enough to recognize irony at this point. But I am coming to recognize tragedy. Yes, I am coming to recognize that all too well for my taste.

I witnessed it firsthand.

* * *

The chimes of the chrono interrupt my thoughts and indicate the late hour. My distress grows. 

According to Naboo tradition, they should be dressing Miss Padmé in her favorite gown by now. She will then be placed in her funerary carriage, the top removed so the masses can pay their respects. And they will do so; of that I am certain.

Oh dear.

What if they do not know her favorite dress? They may be surprised to find that it is not among the most ornate ones she owns. Rather, it is the simple burgundy gown with the curved neckline. Master Anakin gave it to her as an anniversary gift. Quite a lovely gesture, really. She always wore it when she needed to feel at peace.

I daresay that makes it quite appropriate for her to wear for all eternity.

If they make a mistake on the gown selection, I hope the appropriate flowers are chosen at the very least. I really should be there for that task as well, for it is the duty of the Senator's servants to adorn her hair with the petals of mourning. It is my recollection that she always loved the tiny white ones that grew by the lake house. Master Anakin would always greet her at the door with a bouquet in hand. Yes, I am very certain she would like them with her, on this final journey through her beloved streets of Theed.

A door hisses open and my joints nearly freeze from the possible threat I am suddenly sensing around me. Have they guessed my intent? Do they realize that my Mistress needs me and I must go to her?

Evidently, my discomfort shows because someone speaks to me.

"Do not worry, my friend. Your work is not done," he assures me. A man, clad in a silvery gray uniform steps into view and I shrink away instinctively. I chide myself, knowing the Senator would never show such fear.

He comes closer and smiles easily, perhaps even sympathetically. For a moment, I am fooled into believing I am being released to go to her side.

"Whatever do you mean, sir?" I question, the response automatic.

"We all grieve for the loss of the esteemed Senator." Once again, I flinch in reaction to the harsh reality he states. "But part of her still lives on through her newborn daughter. She will be your Mistress now."

_"Leia."_ I remember the sound of the exhausted voice that floated through the medical room, naming the tiny baby girl.

Something inside of me shifts and I am grateful, knowing I will be able to continue in Miss Padmé's service, even if it is in another capacity. It is a job I will accept with great honor.

"Yes, sir," I reply. "It would be my privilege to serve the-" I pause for a moment, recalling Senator Organa's title. It comes to me fairly quickly and I draw the appropriate connection."-Princess. However, I simply must get to Naboo, to assist the Senator one final time. You look quite dedicated to your duty; surely you understand?"

The man – _Antilles_ was his name, I believe – steps forward and claps an arm around me.

And everything went dark.

* * *

I must confess that I did feel a bit guilty for shutting down the droid. After all, he was simply trying to get to the Senator's side – and as odd as it sounds, I truly believe he deserved to be there. 

But I had a job to do. And as he said himself, I am dedicated to my duty.

A few hours later, I was finished and the golden droid had been sufficiently recharged. His compact companion rolled up beside me and beeped mournfully.

I fought another stab of guilt, struggling to remain resolute as I reactivated his main systems. Immediately, the vision sensors began to glow and I was struck with admiration for the creator of this droid, wherever he may be.

"Greetings! I'm See-Threepio, human-cyborg relations. How may I be of service?"

So my task had been completed successfully. I wish I had felt happier about that.

I issued him a few basic instructions and watched as he walked away with the little Artoo-Detoo unit, chattering away innocently – unaware of all that had transpired.

In a way, I envied him.

After he disappeared through the door, I took his old memory chip and ran it between my fingers, wondering at the information that was stored there. The life of Senator Amidala had been fraught with adventure and intrigue. Perhaps there would be something there that could help the Rebellion…

I'm no wielder of the Force, but as I contemplated reviewing it, I could swear I heard a pair of voices – one male and one female – whispering to me:

"_Please, we beg you. Destroy it. Help us keep our secrets."_

With a sigh of regret, I dropped the chip to the floor and crushed it beneath my boot.

Another era of history and Force knows what else… lost to the oppressiveness that was now called the Empire.

**-FIN-**


End file.
